That's My Wish Too
by clockworksalsa
Summary: Stereotypical story that looks more into Sans's prolonged suffering, and how Frisk handles the choices they made. "That left the skeleton with little options, and a lot of nightmare fuel. Eventually, he'd opened the little hatch that led to the roof, so that he could look at the stars."


Sans shuffled around on the perpetually snow-covered roof of his brand new Aboveground house. Magic made everything almost ridiculously easy, so New-New Home ( _classic Asgore_ ) had literally popped up overnight. The nearest human town was no less than an hour away, according to Frisk, so everyone had enough time to settle in for the night. It was a hassling process to herd the entire population of the Underground up to the surface, but significantly less so to magically construct temporary lodgings, or in Sans' case, his entire house, of course. He knew the familiarity would comfort Papyrus, and admittedly, he needed his workshop intact to whittle away at his insomnia.

The day had been a whirlwind, from Tori hiking Frisk over to alert the public of their new ambassador and guests, to Undyne literally smashing boards together in order to house a poor family of slimes, to Papyrus literally being stalked by some tyke in a familiarly-striped shirt. The chaos had done a _bang-up_ job, heh, of distracting Sans from a lot of things. But the town was quiet now, and he only had his thoughts to entertain him. His machine was as hopeless as ever, and he couldn't bring himself to work. Frisk and Tori had come back unscathed, and with news that humans were more curious than anything. The kid was most likely tuckered out, and he didn't want to impose on Tori's hospitality anyway. He had already put Pap to bed for the night, and didn't want to wake him from the few hours of sleep he let himself get. Alphys was… with Undyne… and he didn't want to think about his lab partner in that situation, though he was happy for her.

So that left the skeleton with little options, and a lot of nightmare fuel. Eventually, he'd opened the little hatch that led to the roof, so that he could look at the stars.

"I wish for happiness…" Sans said to himself, and laughed humorously. He had pretty much given up on happiness for himself, though he'd try his damnedest to make everybody else smile. He sighed, and looked up. He raised his phalanges to the clear sky, lit by the pinpricks of far-off Suns. Papyrus was always so pleased with the Sun, but Sans thought that the timelines where they emerged at night were the best. Sure, the Sun was warm, bright. Heh, fit Pap to a tee. It was almost hilarious that his cooler, calmer brother preferred the moon, then. There was something beautiful and enchanting about the night, that enthralled him. If only it could last.

"Orion…" he whispered, as he traced along the familiar Three Sisters. "Leo, Gemini, Canis Major…" He knew all of the constellations like the back of his hand. He laid back in the snow. It didn't melt, or stick to his jacket, because it was really just an illusion. He closed his eyes, then forced them open again. Illusions, illusions. He couldn't afford to close his eyes. Not for the first few nights, at least. He rubbed an edge of one of his eye sockets tiredly nonetheless. He couldn't risk sleep, not with his nightmares. And he couldn't handle… He couldn't handle falling asleep, gaze filled with the night sky, only to wake with Papyrus leaning over him, badgering him about sentry duty. He couldn't imagine, except that he could, he could imagine it perfectly. The shock, abject horror as he realized. That Frisk had betrayed him. Again. Getting up, going to work, numb, hanging back, to see them come out of that damned door, to see _murder_ in their eyes.

And not being able to do anything against the child. Hoping against hope that they could be strong, almost begging them to play along with the puzzles, waiting to see them laugh, smile, emote at all. All because he still cared about them- because he could remember the way their nose crinkled when they laughed, the weight of them on his back, the sight of them bundled up in his jacket on an Aboveground winter day. Memories that only he could keep.

He kept his eyes open, locked on the constellations. Skeletons didn't need to blink, and they weren't bothered by temperature. He could stay out here all night, and he would, until dawn, where he would rouse Papyrus as he requested, so that they could watch the sunrise. Sans wouldn't sleep for at least a week this time, he supposed, and even then it would be in short bursts. As per usual.

His mind whirred as he laid there, rehashing events across time and space for him like some horrible, endless movie. A dust-covered scarlet scarf lying abandoned in the snow. Abandoned towns and hotdog stands, everyone either evacuated or dead. Deafening silence. A golden room, spattered with the blood of his favorite and yet least-favorite human child. Their broken body, collapsing into his arms as he delivers the unexpected final blow to reset the timeline. Or his own body, crumbling into dust as he calls for Papyrus, knowing that he would simply wake up back in Snowdin, just in time for breakfast. His soul clenched, painful to the point of actually losing HP. Ouch. Talk about beating himself up.

Frisk would reset, he knew. They always did, no matter how he begged, demanded, threatened. No matter if Chara made it back with them or not. No matter if everyone made it out. No matter if Frisk chose to stay in the Underground, opting not to fight Asgore. Sure, they could go months, a year or two, and Sans would be almost hopeful. And then, they'd be right back at square one, and he could never figure out what he was doing wrong. Weren't they good enough? Wasn't Frisk happy with their family? With Toriel? Undyne, Alphys, Papyrus? Asgore? Sans? Hell, sometimes they even went and dug up that damn flower, keeping it in a little decorated pot, much to its frustration.

He did all they could to keep them happy. That's all he wanted, was for everyone to be happy. But he couldn't ever, _ever_ , forgive himself for failing. Failing to kill Frisk when he saw Chara in them immediately, letting his friends die, watching innocent monsters die. Failing to keep Frisk content enough. Failing to ever fix what he wrought. And he couldn't ever forgive Frisk for putting him in that position. They knew it too. They had nightmares, just like him. Flinched away from his movements occasionally, hands curling around a weapon that wasn't there. Having to physically touch their friends to make sure they were still living. He did the same with Papyrus, sometimes, worried that he might turn to dust before his eyes. He did that with himself, too, untrusting of his own reflection in the mirror. When your life was at the whims of a god-like ten year old, you began to doubt reality itself.

Life was suffering, and he's lived dozens of lives. He was tired of suffering, though. Tired of watching others suffer. Tired of making Frisk suffer. God, he would never kill himself though. He wouldn't ever cease to exist, not really- a reset would bring him back, and then he'd have to live with the memory of leaving his brother behind. He had no reprieve. He would never get one.

"Urea Major…" He murmured brokenly, and snuggled in deeper to his jacket. This world wouldn't last. It never did. He locked his eyes on the beautiful constellations, hoping that he would see them tomorrow night too, instead of the lights of Waterfall, which literally paled in comparison.

"I wish… I wish for this to be real. I wish to be happy."

oOo

Somewhere across town, in a house already scented with butterscotch and cinnamon, a child sat in front their new room's window, holding a plate of still-warm pie in their lap. They couldn't sleep. They never could the first few nights, but their eyes were mostly hidden by their bangs anyway, so. Thoughts of the past, both of this timeline and those before, churned their stomach. They thought of death, and pain. Hope, and friendship. They pondered if Flowey would come with them willingly this time. If they could save him, somehow- bring back that doe-eyed boy, their adoptive mother's biological son. And they wondered how long it would take- this time- for them to be able to look Sans in the eyes again. For them to rationalize the reset. To go against him, again. To fail. To fail, and fail, and _fail_ , and then what? Just like Flowey said… kill or be killed.

Always at the end, Chara let them remember. In that golden room with their best fiend and their most terrifying adversary, they were allowed to experience true regret, an emotion that should not be able to resonate so strongly within a ten year old. Toriel's warm hugs. Undyne's bright smiles. Papyrus's cooking. Alphys's gratitude. Sans's… everything. If they got enough control back from Chara, they could spare Sans long enough for him to finish his job. For him to break his promise. He was a frequent star of their nightmares, and a flash of blue in his eyes- even for something as simple as lifting something for Toriel, or pushing open the door with his hands full- was enough to set them on edge. Corpses of their friends also haunted them, even though monsters disintegrated. The would know.

If they thought hard enough, they could taste dust on their tongue.

Shaking, they focused on memorizing the constellations. Sans had taught them once, the last time they had all made it to the surface- quite a while ago. It helped with the night terrors. They wanted to go to him. He was a good companion when it came to stuff like this, as he could truly empathize. But he also hated them, to a degree, and would be distant for the next few days. Who wouldn't, after all that they had done? They didn't blame him, especially with their fast-to-forgive nature. They were too tired to fight. Why couldn't they let him be happy?

 _You could do better. You haven't saved everyone. And you're not the one in control, remember?_

 _: )_

Frisk grimaced, taking a huge bite out of their pie. The familiar taste comforted them. Libra, the scales. Ursa Major. Cancer. It wasn't fair, that Asriel had to suffer, and Chara got a free pass to the surface. But Chara was a parasite, persisting, the only constant through time and space for Frisk. There was nothing that they could do.

Except reset and hope that they could be good enough this time. _You aren't. : )_

That they could succeed. _You won't. : )_

That Sans would finally be happy. _**r u i n**_ _h i m. : )_

Frisk remembered the passing conversation they had heard in the Echo Flowers, back in the Underworld. In Waterfall, the luminescent rocks served as stars for hopeful monsters who dreamed of the surface. They stared long and hard at the real sky, wondering if humans could wish too. They didn't have magic, but they had Determination. The familiar feeling swelled up in their chest, and they felt the _ping_ as they wrote over their old Save File.

"I…" Their voice was soft, and scratchy. They had woken up crying not long ago. "I wish… to be determined enough to stay. I wish that I can accept… that I will _never be good enough_. I wish to be happy. Happy enough. Just enough…"

oOo

Asriel tortured them in their dreams, crying for help in the dark caverns of the Ruins. Frisk called too, for Toriel, Sans, Undyne, anyone. But nobody came. They were all dead, and Frisk found themselves cutting off Asriel's crying with their own hands, grinning coldy. _I've always wanted to shut that crybaby up. : )_

Frisk ended up lasting half a year.

oOo

"SANS! GET UP, LAZYBONES! WE HAVE TO BE READY IN CASE A HUMAN SHOWS UP!"

 _You're a good partner, Frisk! : )_

" **You idiot.** "


End file.
